Big Damn Heroes
by queenKLee
Summary: Team Arrow, also known as "we don't call it that," is lured into the Nevada desert by a sniper, who may not be their biggest threat. A recon mission to Las Vegas goes sideways for Felicity, Oliver and Diggle when they become the target of Liam Hawkleigh, aka "Gunhawk." Set during Season 2 with references to Firefly. (Action, Hurt/Comfort, Olicity)
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 - Gunhawk

 _When a snake strikes, it doesn't feel as if fangs have punctured your skin. It's more like being smartly rapped by an escrima fighting stick. It hurts like hell. And in the off chance that you are bitten by the Mojave Green rattlesnake, you may die. Or sincerely wish you could._

 _This lesson was just one more alarming, day-to-day revelation in the strange life of Felicity Smoak._

"No power in the 'verse can stop me," Felicity remarked from her computer console in the Foundry as she crushed the final firewall of a "secure" website.

Oliver's forehead furrowed in WTF confusion.

"Oh. Firefly," she explained. "It's an awesome Whedon space opera with big damn heroes who are on the run in the future. There's cool spaceships, except it's really more like a western. With some Chinese culture thrown in."

Oliver remained gobsmacked. "Big damn heroes?"

"It's shiny," Digg cryptically added, to Felicity's delight, lightly smacking her perky high five.

Oliver shook his head in surrender and returned to sharpening an arrowhead.

"Gotcha!" Felicity declared as her bright blue eyes tracked a blinking red dot on her monitor.

Oliver was instantly on his feet and moving to stand over Felicity, his hands dropping to gently cap her bare shoulders. He coasted his warm palms down her arm. "Are you warm enough?" he fretted.

"I'm fine," she answered, giving his hands a quick pat.

"So, Gunhawk?" he asked.

"Yep," she answered, popping the "p" as only she could. "Liam Hawkleigh himself. He's on the concourse at McCarran."

"Vegas," Oliver guessed.

"Coming or going?" Diggle asked as he joined them to watch the tracker.

"Can't tell. We'll know soon, " she surmised.

And they do, following the scarlet marker as it slipped onto the interstate headed towards Las Vegas.

"So now, what?" Diggle asked as he rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.

"We go," Oliver said decisively.

"To Vegas?" Diggle queried with a hint of doubt.

"I thought he was Bruce Wayne's problem," Felicity commented, raising a well-defined eyebrow.

"Well, he's ours now," Oliver growled. "He's shouldn't have come to our city to assassinate the Glades' alderman."

"Las Vegas is pretty far from our wheelhouse," Diggle remarked.

"Not far from mine though," Felicity volunteered with a grin, glancing over her eyeglass rims at the two handsome faces hovering above hers.

"I lied," Felicity wailed from the backseat. "This is so _not_ my wheelhouse."

"It's okay, Felicity," Oliver said over his shoulder as they cruised south of the city into desert terrain. "We had no way of knowing where this would lead."

"But I'm a city mouse," she squeaked and, seeing her cute distress in his rearview mirror, Oliver thought she was adorable.

Felicity felt a bit lonely in the rental's backseat, but Oliver had wanted to drive this morning and Diggle seemed to be enjoying the chance to ride shotgun.

"Felicity, can you still see him?" Oliver asked.

Checking her tablet, Felicity nodded. "He took the next exit heading south. But after that, he's a ghost. Maybe he's out of range of a tower." They traveled in silence for almost an hour, losing internet service twenty miles after they left the main highway. Felicity always felt more vulnerable when she was offline.

"What would pull Gunhawk this far out in the middle of nowhere?" Diggle wondered aloud.

"Hiding the body!" Felicity guessed with a little too much glee.

"Which body?" Oliver asked the brainy blonde in his mirror.

"We don't know. But that's what assassins do, " she explained. "They turn people – live people, that is – into bodies. That they bury. Sometimes. In the desert."

"She's not wrong," Diggle added.

"Yeah, but not this guy. Not Gunhawk," Oliver said. "When have you known a sniper to hang around to...

BANG!

When the right front tire exploded, Oliver gripped the wheel with both hands, fighting to keep the car on the pavement. Seconds later, a gunshot pierced the windshield and Oliver's right shoulder bloomed with blood.

Felicity gasped as she realized they were under fire. Diggle reflexively grabbed the dash assessing whether Oliver could keep control of the vehicle. "You got it, man?"

"Felicity, keep your seatbelt on but get your head down!" Oliver yelled.

When a third bullet rifled into the engine block, they knew who was the target of Gunhawk's mission in this desolate locale: Them.


	2. Chapter 2

_**From Chapter 1:**_

 _BANG!_

 _When the right front tire exploded, Oliver gripped the wheel with both hands, fighting to keep the car on the pavement. Seconds later, a gunshot pierced the windshield and Oliver's right shoulder bloomed with blood._

 _Felicity gasped as she realized they were under fire. Diggle reflexively grabbed the dash assessing whether Oliver could keep control of the vehicle. "You got it, man?"_

 _"Felicity, keep your seatbelt on but get your head down!" Oliver yelled._

 _When a third bullet rifled into the engine block, they knew the target of Gunhawk's mission in this desolate locale. He was here to kill them._

 **CHAPTER 2 – New Scars**

Even though the motor was now out of commission, the car careened off the road at highway speed, slamming into a huge cactus. Oliver and Diggle tried to fight their way free of the deployed airbags which were now blood-stained.

"Felicity! Felicity, are you okay?" Oliver shouted, his panic rising. "Felicity!"

Oliver checked Diggle to his right. "You all right, man?"

"Yeah," Diggle replied, his fingers bloody where they had touched the side of his head. "Cracked my noggin is all."

Oliver twisted in his seat, looking for a familiar blond ponytail but the airbags restricted his range of motion. "Can you see her?" he asked his partner.

John shifted his massive shoulders to adjust his angle. "Yeah, she's moving."

"Felicity!" Oliver yelled.

A small series of coughs erupted in the backseat as she slowly surfaced, her glasses askew and a shocked expression on her face.

"Still here. I think," she said, ducking her head again to search out the latch of her seatbelt.

Oliver had beaten down the airbag enough to open his car door and half tumbled to the ground. He dragged himself upright, opened the passenger door for Felicity and raked her with intense worried glances. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good," she answered, straightening her glasses and climbing out to stand beside him. Oliver's hands skated across her arms to reassure himself that she was in one undamaged piece. Then, he compulsively pulled her to his chest, his arms wrapping gratefully around her slender frame.

Her eyes darted to his wounded shoulder. "Oh, Oliver. You're hurt," she gasped. She pulled back from his embrace and stepped to his side to spy a second blood stain, confirming there was an exit wound. "Two new scars," she sighed, sadness showing in her eyes.

"I'm fine," he said. Because that's what injured Oliver always said.

Felicity rolled her eyes. Because that's what she always did when Oliver refused to admit he was a mere mortal. "Of course you are," she replied, with a broad hint of sarcasm.

"The shooter's still out there so keep a low profile. Let's get John out," he suggested, already heading around the vehicle.

The frame on Diggle's side of the car had been bent in the wreck and it quickly became apparent that his door would not be opened without a crowbar. With major effort, considering his size, Digg crawled across the center console and under the steering wheel to extricate himself.

"Felicity, make a note: Next time, we're renting a bigger model," he huffed.

"Sorry, Diggle. I forget how much space to allow for all the ridiculous man muscles," she confessed, her hands vaguely waving in their direction.

Oliver had opened the trunk, removing a long bag containing his bow and arrows while keeping a weather eye on a nearby bluff studded with rows of wind turbines.

"You think he's up there?" Diggle asked, following the archer's line of sight.

With a slight nod, Oliver answered, "It's where I'd be."

Felicity had returned to the car's backseat, checking her electronic devices. Her tablet had not survived the collision, its screen broken and dark. But she was hopeful when she pulled her smartphone from her purse to see that it was fine. However, on closer inspection, there were no bars indicating reception. "Frack," she cursed. "No signal."

Oliver and Diggle continued to gather supplies from the rig. "What are you thinking?" Diggle asked, scanning the empty road with worried eyes.

"Stay with the car. Keep our heads down. But come dark, we're walking out of here."

Their supplies were limited, but for a former castaway like Oliver, who had survived for years in a chronic state of need, their situation was far from hopeless. They had weapons, having flown to Nevada by private jet. Felicity had packed several water bottles, an assortment of snacks and, most important to their line of work, a first aid kit. After years of dealing with traumatic injuries, Felicity _never_ traveled without basic medical necessities. She had come to rely on antiseptic, gauze and sutures as much as she did her Wi-Fi.

Felicity cleaned and applied a butterfly bandage to the cut on Diggle's forehead and he kept watch on the nearby mesa while she tended to Oliver's shoulder. Trails of blood still seeped from both wounds so she closed them with neat stitches as her nimble, purple-lacquered nails worked next to his clenched jaw. There were scarlet bruises forming around his torn flesh and she worried about the internal damage that was beyond her skill set.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"For what?" he asked, turning his face toward hers as she closed the final suture.

"That you were shot. Again," she answered, laying her hand upon his chest. "It just seems you've been hurt enough for this lifetime." Felicity felt an onset of tears so she studiously returned her attention to his wounds.

"I'm okay, Felicity," he assured her, his fingers lifting her chin so she met his eyes. "Really."

"Okay," she sniffed with a watery smile. "Do you want me to make up a sling for this arm?" she asked, her brow furrowed. "I have a scarf..."

"Absolutely not," he bellowed.

"You don't have to yell about it," she said, slightly offended.

"I've seen your scarves. In every candy color. There's no way," he sputtered.

"Oliver," Diggle began, opening the blade of his buck knife, "I've got your back, man. And your shoulder." To Felicity's horror, he stabbed the blade into the car's leather upholstery and sliced a long width from the backrest.

With a smile, he handed the smooth leather strip across to Felicity, who simply shook her head, muttering, "Well, we're not gettin' _that_ rental deposit back."

The early afternoon was quiet and the trio rested in the car after packing what they could carry after nightfall. Felicity dug out snacks from her "possibles" bag and she dived into her portion.

"What's she eating?" Oliver quietly asked Diggle.

"Hmmm?" Diggle raised his head, peering in Felicity's direction.

"Looks like puppy chow," Oliver murmured.

"Oh. It's just her Cocoa Puffs!" Diggle replied.

"Girl eats like a three-year-old," Oliver sighed.

Diggle nodded, looking thoughtfully at Felicity as she happily munched. "Works for her though."

Oliver replied with a small grin. "It does."

As the day dragged on, Oliver grew restless, his dark eyes troubled by the unseen menace that hunted them. For too long, he had been prey to the cruelty of others. The experience had turned him into a lethal predator. But in their present circumstances, Oliver and the people he cared most about, were at the mercy of the merciless. The Arrow could not, would not, let that stand.

Felicity stared at the line of windmills to their far right, wondering aloud, "What's his game? What's he waiting for?"

As if on cue, a withering barrage of bullets hailed down on them, turning the quiet, sleepy desert into a killing field.


	3. Chapter 3

_**From CHAPTER 2:**_

 _Felicity stared at the line of windmills to their far right, wondering aloud, "What's his game? What's he waiting for?"_

 _As if on cue, a withering barrage of bullets hailed down on them, turning the quiet, sleepy desert into a killing field._

 **CHAPTER 3 – There Be Monsters**

They threw themselves to the far side of the car's interior and spilled out of the doors to the hard-packed ground. Keeping his back to the shooter, Oliver grabbed Felicity by the shoulders and pulled her just behind the car's front left tire well, using the engine as a shield. Diggle chose the same strategy, with both men placing themselves in front of her. As always, Felicity could count on these two men to protect her at all costs. The shooting was relentless, reminding Felicity of the car shredded by gunfire in the final scenes of _Bonnie and Clyde._

When the deafening sniper attack finally stopped, Felicity could hear nothing but high-pitched ringing in her ears. The vehicle was, simply put, destroyed. It had kept them alive and relatively unscathed although they all had all suffered small cuts from flying shrapnel.

After verifying that they were not seriously injured, they stayed in their huddle by the car.

"That was subtle," Diggle dryly observed.

"He's trying to flush us out before he loses daylight," Oliver said, his fingers rubbing with pent-up energy and frustration.

"Could you see the muzzle flash?" asked Diggle.

"Not without losing the top of my skull," Oliver replied dryly.

"I want this made perfectly clear," Felicity began, "I am so _not_ making the call to Hertz."

After the last vestiges of twilight had faded to full darkness, the three left the bullet-riddled wreckage, slipping into the scrubby desert landscape. Crouching as they moved, they stayed parallel to the farm-to-market road in hopes they would reach traffic or at least a signal from a cell tower. Thankfully, there was limited natural light due to a waning moon, lessening the risk of being seen by the sniper.

Oliver and Diggle of course had sensible boots that protected their feet and gave them decent traction. She however had chosen to wear a darling pair of flat-soled sandals that showed off her pretty aquamarine toenails dotted with sparkly rhinestones. This impromptu hike was demolishing her pedicure. Some days, it was hell to be a fashionista _and_ a vigilante's "girl Wednesday."

As time passed, Felicity found it harder to ignore the nocturnal desert creatures that were coming to life around her. She tried to convince herself that the papery, rustling noises were caused by the wind, but her brilliant mind knew better. And having grown up in Las Vegas, she certainly remembered news stories of hapless hikers' encounters with local wildlife.

She struggled to forget images of tarantulas and Gila monsters, but it was impossible to do when she felt something scurrying across her bare toes. She squealed and jumped away from the creepy sensation. As she landed, something moved under her foot, upsetting her balance and throwing her backwards.

"Ow, ow, ow," she yelled.

Oliver and Diggle, whose eyes were now fully adjusted to the low light, found her writhing on the desert floor, but kept their voices low.

"Felicity, what is it?" Oliver asked, his hands reaching for her. "Did you fall?"

"Something hit me," she cried. "Hit my leg."

"Hit you," Diggle repeated, sounding concerned. He pulled a small flashlight from his backpack as he knelt at Felicity's feet. "Oliver, we need to shield this light."

Oliver yanked his jacket off, tenting it over Diggle who flipped on his penlight to look at Felicity's injured shin.

"Oh, god. This night just got so much worse."


	4. Chapter 4

_**From CHAPTER 3:**_

 _"Felicity, what is it?" Oliver asked, his hands reaching for her. "Did you fall?"_

 _"Something hit me," she cried. "Hit my leg."_

 _"Hit you," Diggle repeated, sounding concerned. He pulled a small flashlight from his backpack as he knelt at Felicity's feet. "Oliver, we need to shield this light."_

 _Oliver yanked his jacket off, tenting it over Diggle who flipped on his penlight to look at Felicity's injured shin._

 _"Oh, god. This night just got so much worse."_

 **CHAPTER 4 – Hello Kitty**

Oliver and Diggle recognized the puncture wounds already bleeding in rivulets down Felicity's calf. At first, they did not voice their suspicions but exchanged worried looks.

"It's good that it's bleeding," Digg said.

"Bleeding! When is bleeding ever good?" Felicity demanded to know. She had sat up with her injured leg resting in Diggle's steady hands.

Oliver knelt beside her, his hand skimming down her arm. In a calming voice, he explained, "You're going to be alright, Felicity. But you may have been bitten."

"Bitten!" she cried.

"Felicity," Digg began, "It's important that you stay calm. You know we'll take care of you."

"It really hurts," she whimpered and both men heard the tears catch in her voice.

"I know, sweetheart," Diggle comforted her. Then, to Oliver, he said, "We need to keep the wound below her heart and keep her as still as possible."

Oliver slid behind Felicity, yanked his injured arm from its sling and lifted her into his lap as Digg carefully lowered her legs. Oliver kissed her temple and stroked the loose hair away from her face, noting with concern that her skin felt clammy.

Diggle grabbed a fresh water bottle and emptied it over the wound to clean away any venom that might remain on the surface of her skin.

"Felicity, which bag has our first aid kit?" Digg asked.

"Mine," she answered. "The _Hello Kitty_ one."

The two men, even in crisis, couldn't help the weak grins her answer sparked. This is my Felicity, Oliver thought. God help him, he loved this girl.

Diggle dug through her bag, his hand quickly finding the box of medical supplies. It was not optimal conditions for dressing a wound, but his Army service as a field medic served him well. He applied an antibiotic salve on her bleeding wound and wrapped it in gauze.

"Oliver, I need your sling," he said, reaching towards his friend.

Oliver hesitated before asking, "A tourniquet, Digg? Aren't you afraid..."

"I'm not tying it off, Oliver," Diggle explained as he wrapped the leather strip higher on Felicity's calf. "We want to allow some blood flow. As long as you can easily slip your finger under the leather, it's not too tight. You'll need to watch for swelling though."

At that, Diggle pulled his knife and opened the blade. Felicity jerked, seeing the knife in her friend's hand. "Whoa! What are you doing with that?"

Diggle gently patted her other knee and spoke calmly, "I'm just going to keep you comfortable, darlin'." Oliver stroked her tensed shoulders and kissed her hair.

Diggle sliced the hem of her capris, then jerked the side seam to rip the pant leg open to just below her panty line.

"Hey, you ruined my favorite capris," she weakly protested.

"It's in case your leg swells, Felicity," Oliver explained, noticing that she had begun to tremble.

While Digg stabilized Felicity, Oliver's attention was divided between providing comfort, making a new plan and the gut-wrenching fear that threatened to overwhelm him. He knew enough about snakebites to understand that, without antivenin, this could go bad real quick. And they were a long way from the medical intervention she needed. Felicity was suffering, her life imperiled, and he had brought her into this God-forsaken place.

"Oliver," Digg pulled him back from the brink. "We can't keep moving. I'm going to look for better cover nearby. I won't be gone long." He waited for Oliver's slight nod of understanding before he slipped away into darkness.

Diggle had flicked off the flashlight and carefully propped Felicity's wounded leg on Oliver's folded jacket. She was restless in Oliver's arms and he feared she was moving her legs as well. "Felicity, you need to stay still, baby,"

"It hurts, Oliver. It's bad," she sobbed.

"I know. Give me your hand," he said, his large hands reaching down to grip her small ones. "Hold onto me. I'll help you carry the pain."

Even by starlight, he saw her give him a classic side-eye as she looked over at him. "I don't think that's how it works," she said in the same no-nonsense way she frequently called his bluff. He surrendered a slight breath of laughter.

"You may be right, but it's all I've got to give you at the moment." And so she gripped his hands, white-knuckling through the pain as he held on in the darkness.

When Diggle materialized to crouch beside them, Oliver had no idea how long his friend had been gone.

"There's a dry creekbed two clicks northeast of us," Digg reported. "It's a deep enough ravine to hide her from view."

Diggle laid a large palm to Felicity's forehead. "How you doing, sweetheart?"

"Pretty rocky," she croaked.

"You hold on, girl," Digg said. "We're going to get you to a safer place."

"There better be Wi-Fi," she joked weakly.

Staying low, Diggle gathered their things, bringing a backpack to Oliver, who still held Felicity as they prepared to move her.

"I will lift her by the shoulders," Digg offered, "if you can manage her legs?"

Knowing that Digg would be carrying the majority of her weight, Oliver interjected, "No, I've got her. You just..."

Diggle cut him off. "We don't have time to argue about this. You've got a bum shoulder and I can't have you bleeding out with her in this condition. So, just shut it."

Oliver was stunned into silence, his temper rising, but Felicity's spasms of pain quickly leveled his male pride. "Okay."

Diggle knelt beside him, smoothly accepting the burden of her upper body as Oliver shifted around to gingerly lift her legs. They kept as low a profile as possible, creeping in darkness over uneven terrain while pointing Felicity's legs to the desert floor. They had to stop once, lowering and turning Felicity when she became violently ill.

"No more Cocoa Puffs. Ever. Again," she moaned.

As they neared the ravine, Digg warned Oliver, "Watch your step. We're here."

They crab-walked down the sandy incline, searching for the deepest inset to serve as their natural hideaway, eventually choosing a site beneath a wide embankment.

Diggle and Oliver gently lowered Felicity, trying to keep her leg immobilized although it was darker and harder to see in their new burrow. "I think we can risk a light in here, at least until she's more settled," Digg suggested with Oliver grunting in approval.

Working as a team with the help of flashlights, the two men spread a blanket beneath their patient and checked her condition. The leg had swollen significantly so they loosened the leather wrap and replaced the bloody dressing. Deep tremors racked her body as a fever spiked. Oliver leaned into the desert wall and again lifted her into his arms, her back and head resting on his chest, her swollen leg stretched out before them.

Diggle noticed fresh blood stains spreading on Oliver's shoulder, but he knew his partner well enough to hold his tongue.

"Can we give her anything?" Oliver asked, desperation in his tone.

"I'm flying blind here, Oliver, because we don't know what type of bite this is. I'm afraid to use painkillers. It's probably safe to give her sips of water to prevent dehydration," Digg confessed with a shake of his head. "But she's getting worse. I'm walking out of here to get help. Keep her as still as you can."

"I should go, Digg," Oliver offered. "You're the medic."

"Stay with your woman, Oliver," Diggle said, dismissing him. "You're the one she wants. You're the one she needs."

Diggle knelt beside Felicity, slipping a hand to cradle her neck as he gave her a gentle goodbye. "I'm going to get you help, sweetheart. You wait for me, okay?"

Felicity gave him a wan smile, whispering, "I'll be here."

"That's a promise," Diggle said, kissing her forehead before rising. He dropped a hand to Oliver's shoulder, vowing, "And if I hear it from Felicity Smoak, I know it's true."

"It is," she sighed, her weary eyes closing.

"Digg," Oliver called. "I need my bow."

Diggle brought the long bag, unzipped it and laid Oliver's weapons at his side.

"Leave a sign out there so you can find your way back, " Oliver told his friend.

Diggle reached into the _Hello Kitty_ tote bag and came up with a bright turquoise scarf in his grip. Oliver nodded in answer to Diggle's unspoken question.

"What if Gunhawk sees it first?" Digg asked.

Oliver's jabbed three arrows into the sand beside him and, with a murderous glint in his eyes, growled, "Let him come."


	5. Chapter 5

**From CHAPTER 4:**

 _"Leave a sign out there so you can find your way back, " Oliver told his friend._

 _Diggle reached into the Hello Kitty tote bag and came up with a bright turquoise scarf in his grip. Oliver nodded in answer to Diggle's unspoken question._

 _"What if Gunhawk sees it first?" Digg asked._

 _Oliver's jabbed three arrows into the sand beside him and, with a murderous glint in his eyes, growled, "Let him come."_

 **CHAPTER 5 – Fifty Shades**

Felicity's pain, swelling and fever did not abate through the ensuing hours and Oliver's despair for her was worse than the torture he had endured in his darkest days. He felt helpless and guilty that he'd led them into this nightmare.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered into her hair.

She made a half-hearted attempt to pat his hand without opening her eyes. "Oliver, why do you do that? You're not responsible for everybody. Bad things happen to good people. There was even a book about it. We should read that book. When we have internet again. And Amazon..."

He marveled that her words and whimsical thoughts rambled even when she was so sick.

"We should," he agreed, his fingers softly threading through her long hair. "I'd like you to read to me."

"I can," she volunteered with a tiny grin. "I'm quite the little reader. I've got lots of books. All kinds. Not the fifty shades kind. I mean, I have those too, but can't read those out loud. Not to you. Because you wouldn't want. Well, of course you would _want_ that sort of... Oh, no. These are words that should not be coming out of my mouth. Or anybody's mouth. At any time."

How she could make him smile in this desolate place, at such a critical time, amazed him. Oliver knew he would never find anyone like her, who could unburden him the effortless way she did. And he was terrified that he would lose her in the darkest hours before dawn.

When Liam Hawkleigh stepped into the creekbed to face Oliver and Felicity, her turquoise scarf fluttered from his hand in glaring contrast to the commando gear he wore and the custom, lightweight machine gun in his grip.

"Well now, this is just sad," the ex-Marine sneered. "Team Arrow, all broke down and burrowed into the sand like desert rats."

"We don't call it that," a Felicity mumbled, repeating the phrase out of habit.

Gunhawk frowned at the delirious girl who lay nestled in Oliver's lap.

Glancing around, Gunhawk snidely asked, "So, Hoss, you got abandoned by your third Musketeer?"

"Gone for help," Oliver said, revealing no malice.

"That's too bad, friend, 'cause it don't look like help is gonna get here in time," Gunhawk drawled in a mocking tone.

"We don't need 'em," Oliver replied, his voice calm and cold.

"I heard that about you, hoss, how you run around like a caveman with a bow," the sniper smirked.

"It's not the bow you should fear, "Oliver said. "It's The Arrow."

Hawkleigh's laugh died in his throat because that's where the first arrow struck him.

Felicity stilled toward daylight and her breathing became more labored. At times, her beautiful blue eyes would flare wide as she pulled a deep gasp for air, searching for Oliver's reassuring presence.

His voice, the sound she loved most, would calm her. "I'm here, Felicity. You are safe."

He struggled to mask his fear and the shame for this lie. Felicity was not safe because he had allowed them to be lured into danger. He had let his guard down, trusting in a false assumption that this was a routine surveillance mission. There were no routine missions and Oliver forgetting that fact might have cost her life. The loss of Felicity would surely destroy him.

Shortly after the sun's first rays broke across the horizon, Oliver heard the unmistakable sound of helicopter blades beating the air above them. His heart leapt into his throat, much as it had when he had first seen the fisherman's boat in the North China Sea years before.

He kissed Felicity full on the lips, startling her into full consciousness.

"Oliver!" she croaked. " _Now_! When I'm half-dead? I'm sick and gross. _Now_ you give me a real kiss?"

With a rare, genuine smile, Oliver leaned down, his arms embracing her, and whispered against her lips, "I promise. There will be more to come."


	6. Chapter 6

**_From CHAPTER 5:_**

 _He kissed Felicity full on the lips, startling her into full consciousness._

 _"Oliver!" she croaked. "Now! When I'm half-dead? I'm sick and gross. Now you give me a real kiss?"_

 _With a rare, genuine smile, Oliver leaned down, his arms embracing her, and whispered against her lips, "I promise. There will be more to come."_

 **CHAPTER 6 – Finding Serenity**

Felicity was airlifted, with Oliver and Diggle at her side, to the University Medical Center in Las Vegas, where she was admitted to intensive care. Because her symptoms indicated serious reaction to what was, in all probability a rattlesnake bite, she was given ten vials of antivenin before her vital signs began to level out. Oliver refused to leave her side.

After Felicity's condition started to improve, Oliver agreed to be admitted for the gunshot wound and dehydration. He underwent emergency surgery to remove bone and bullet fragments embedded in muscle tissue.

By the second night, Felicity had been moved from critical care to a private room and felt well enough to check out the tv channels. Discovering a _Firefly_ marathon was a happy touchstone that made her begin to feel like herself again. She was craving a big bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream when John Diggle stuck his head in the door.

"Hey, John," she greeted him with a happy smile.

"Hey, girl," he answered. "You're lookin' better."

"Feelin' it, too," she said. "Come on in."

Diggle stepped over to Felicity's bedside, gathering her hands in his.

"I kept my promise, Digg," she said, earnestly looking up at him.

"I never doubted you would, Felicity," he replied, drawing up a chair and settling in it.

"How's Oliver?" she asked.

Diggle grinned and answered, "Cranky and uncooperative."

"He really is the world's worst hospital patient," Felicity giggled as Digg nodded, joining her laughter.

"Oliver just doesn't understand that some injuries can't be fixed with spit and duct tape."

Diggle glanced up at the tv screen above them and commented, "Big damn heroes, huh?"

"Yeah," Felicity replied, turning wistful as she looked back to Digg. "I'm kind of an expert on those. I think I owe them my life."

"That debt is forgiven, Felicity. You're the best part of us," Diggle said, rising to return to her bedside. He bent down to kiss her cheek and she stroked his arm.

"Thank you, John," she said, her eyes brimming with new tears.

His thumb caught a falling teardrop as he shushed her. "Now, none of that. You just get well. I'm catching the red-eye home tonight so I'm on my way to the airport. I will see you and Captain Grumpy Pants in Starling City."

"I'm going to tell him you called him that," she teased.

"Go ahead," he grinned. "I've got his bow and arrows."

It was after midnight when Oliver slipped into her room. Felicity was asleep, her face framed by a cloud of blond tresses. Oliver, wearing jeans and a dark Henley with his arm secured in a sling, reached up and turned off the television set before stepping to her bedside. He was mesmerized by her lovely face that had regained her usual healthy glow, so different from the pale, suffering girl he had cradled in his arms two long nights ago.

Not wanting to wake her, Oliver leaned down, softly kissing Felicity's lips and whispering, "I can't live without you."

In Russian.

When a frazzled nurse from Oliver's assigned ward finally located her obstinate missing patient, she found him asleep in a chair pulled next to the bed with his head resting by Felicity's hip, his free hand covering hers. For the first time since a bloodied Oliver Queen had been admitted, his face was at peace, free of the anxiety and pain that had so hardened his features. He had finally found serenity in the presence of the remarkable woman who slept unaware at his side.

The nurse did not wake them.

 **EPILOGUE**

Jean-Paul Valley would never forget the first time he saw Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak.

Known as Azrael, Jean-Paul was the Gotham City vigilante who sometimes stepped in for a wounded Batman. He had recently been assigned by Amanda Waller to "retrieve an asset" from the Nevada desert. Like all ARGUS missions, it was a "black op" focused on capturing the master sniper Gunhawk with the intent of controlling and exploiting his deadly skills.

Hawkleigh revealed his location in the Nevada desert when his strafing attack on Team Arrow was captured by ARGUS satellite imagery. Jean-Paul and a support team were dropped into rugged Nevada terrain that night to hunt down Gunhawk. The footprints of his heavy military boots led them to his body, lying in the hollow of a dry creekbed, with a green arrow lodged in his neck.

When Jean-Paul met the steely gaze of Oliver Queen, he saw an exhausted, wounded yet dangerous man in a protective stance, guarding the slender woman who now lay in distress at his feet. Oliver's arrow was knocked and ready to fly with the release of the bowstring.

"I am not here for you," Jean-Paul called out. Looking down at Hawkleigh's body, he clarified, "This is the man I came for." He signaled to the other men, who began loading the corpse into a body bag.

"I can't offer you a ride, but do you need me to call for help?" Jean-Paul asked.

Oliver did not lower his bow or relax his pull on the bow, giving only a terse answer, "Contact first responders for a snakebite victim. And set some flares."

With military precision, the ARGUS team removed the body along with evidence of Hawkleigh's presence and death. Jean-Paul took a final glance back towards the embankment, a tableau now glowing from the ignited flares. Within seconds, he saw The Arrow transformed, from lethal weapon to the man – Oliver Queen – tenderly lifting his beloved into his arms.


End file.
